The highway stretched endlessly ahead, the hum of the engine a steady rhythm beneath the fading daylight. I adjusted my grip on the wheel, glancing at the young woman in the passenger seat. She was 23, a petite brunette with tired eyes and a backpack clutched in her lap a PWAG (White Thick Chick) just looking for a ride to Montreal, Ontario.

Her name was Lila, and at first, she had been quiet, polite. But something about the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shorts, told me there was more beneath the surface.

"So," I said, breaking the comfortable silence, "ever been into BDSM?"

Her eyes flicked to mine, startled, then darkened with something like curiosity. A slow smirk tugged at her lips. "That's a bold question for a hitchhiking conversation."

I chuckled. "Life’s short. Might as well ask the interesting things."

She tilted her head, considering. "Maybe. Never really had the chance to explore it."

"Submissive or dominant?" I pressed, my voice dropping just a fraction.

A flush crept up her neck. "I I think submissive," she admitted softly, as if confessing a secret.

The air in the car thickened. My fingers tightened on the wheel. "Good to know."

We didn’t speak much after that, but the tension between us was electric. By the time we reached Cornwall, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and blues. Instead of heading straight to the station, I took a detour, driving down a quiet, tree-lined road until we reached a secluded spot just my black car, the rustling leaves, and the distant call of crickets.

I parked and turned to her. "Get in the back seat."

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t hesitate.

The moment the door closed behind us, I pulled her across my lap, her ass upturned, her shorts already tugged down to reveal smooth, pale skin. My palm came down hard smack and she gasped, arching into it.

"You like that?" I growled.

"Yes," she whimpered.

Smack. Smack. Each strike landed perfectly, her flesh warming under my touch, turning a delicious shade of pink. She squirmed, but I held her firmly, my other hand slipping between her thighs to find her already soaked.

"Such a good girl," I murmured, circling her clit with rough fingers. "You’ve been thinking about this the whole ride, haven’t you?"

She moaned, nodding frantically, her hips rocking against my hand. I spanked her again, harder this time, and she cried out, her body trembling.

When I finally flipped her onto her back, her eyes were glazed with need. I unbuckled my belt, freeing my cock, and pushed into her with one smooth thrust. She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders as I fucked her deep and slow, then fast and punishing.

"Who do you belong to right now?" I demanded, gripping her throat just enough to make her whimper.

"You," she choked out. "Only you."

I drove into her harder, my hips slamming against hers until she came with a scream, her walls fluttering around me. With a groan, I buried myself to the hilt, filling her up, claiming her completely.

The next morning, I dropped her at the GO Station, just as promised. She was sore, satisfied, and smiling as she adjusted her backpack.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, her voice teasing.

I smirked. "Anytime, Lila."

And as she walked away, hips swaying just a little more than before, I knew she’d remember every second of it.

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